


Familiar

by Benji_Deeds



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: An allusion to comics, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Sexual Abuse, Wade talks about his abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 06:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17617145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Benji_Deeds/pseuds/Benji_Deeds
Summary: In which Wade talks about the abuse he underwent as a child after a horrible nightmare and Nathan comforts him, seeking the right words.





	Familiar

Immediately Nathan knew something wasn't right. Maybe it was his psychic abilities that let him slip into Wade's mind, sort of get a glimpse into what he's feeling, or maybe it was just all the experience he had with his idiot boyfriend. Maybe a fucked up mixture of both, he wasn't sure.

But he knew something was wrong.

Wade had always been the one to cuddle in bed. He was usually the one who initiated contact and intimacy, always the one that sent the first affectionate smile Nate's way early in the morning when Nate's hair wasn't fixed and he was only wearing boxer shorts. Nate was eerily, (no, no, that wasn't the word...) he was comfortably familiar with the warmth that came from Wade resting his head against his shoulder, hand on his chest and a leg thrown over him. He was so used to it by now that when it was taken away, Nathan noticed it off the bat.

It had been enough to stir him out of his light sleep, enough to make him look over at Wade with a worried, deeply creased frown, and a soft hand on his arm. And definitely enough for him to say, his voice gruff from waking up and years spent having to project his voice over the noises of war, "Wade? You okay, idiot?" It was one of those petnames that was easy for the both of them - so familiar so as not to be uncomfortable and new, but with a layer of intimacy that they both knew meant fondness. 

In return, he merely got a light shiver from the touch paired with the muffled sound of heavy breathing from his partner. Nate moved closer, his voice lowering a bit so as to be more soothing. He wasn't sure exactly how Wade would respond -they hadn't had many of these experiences before- but he used what he remembered would have helped his wife when she was struggling. What a pissy sort of way to bring things in his life full circle. 

"Wilson, what's going on with you?" 

Wade reacted to the hand on his arm finally, resting his own hand over Nate's, his face still turned away. That's progress at least. He was showing that it was okay for Nate to be around him right now. That's okay, that's-that's good. 

Eventually, Wade moved the hand from where it had been clamped tightly over his mouth. He was catching up on his breathing, still huddled in a ball on the bed. "Nate, you funky little bastard, just get closer to me and ignore your weird ass heteronormative brain." Wade laughed despite how shaky his voice was and how much that made no fucking sense to Nathan. But he was willing to let that one slide, and moved closer to Wade. Their fingers were still intertwined from before, Wade's shaky grip like a viper on him. Nathan kept his other hand, unfortunately the colder, techno-organic one, on Wade's back as he slowly prompted Wade to face him.

It took a solid minute or two, but Wade did eventually manage to meet Nathan's gaze. It did something to Nate's heart when Wade pulled their hands closer to his chest. It did something even worse when he noticed the paler complexion, (though it was hard to tell with Wade's deformity), the tears that had streaked his cheeks and seeming to still be stinging his eyes, and the way he was shivering as if it wasn't a warm 69°, (Wade insisted it be this degree), in their shared apartment. 

"Wade, talk to me," he spoke in that same softer sort of manner. "And none of that deflection bullshit humor, either." Wade had met his gaze at that one and Nathan nodded, "Yeah, I know that's what you do." 

Wade had to agree with that one. He pressed his forehead against Nathan's shoulder, that same familiar, comfortable spot that he'd decided a long time ago he enjoyed. "It was just a stupid dream, okay?" A beat and he added, muttering, "Well isn't that a cliche? Good job, brilliant author." 

Nathan elected to ignore that piece of commentary to run smooth trailing patterns over Wade's spine. "What sort of dream, Wade." By the laws of English, it should be a question, but the soft, stern tone Nathan asked it in made it more of a statement, a quiet demand to know so he could help his boyfriend, for God's sake.

There's this sort of balance to Wade. He always had a line to banter with, something always circling in his mind that he could talk about, something that engages the other person because Lord knows Wade just wanted people to interact with him, to entertain him, to like him. And for all the words he had, there was some silence that came with it. A silence that acted as a barrier from all the words he had to say that would otherwise spill out desperately. Nathan had just cracked a part of that border, and Wade's grip on him grew stronger as everything spilled. 

"Just this-this fucked up dream, man, this fuckin' horrible shitty space where I was back home-uh-back-back at my house from when I was a kid. This real fuckin' small place where me and my mom lived after my shitstick dad left for the first time. Fuckin'-Fuckin' fruit, man, heh. There was always this shitty, little bowl of fruit that sat on our counter and-and it wasn't even that good. Like...who the hell keeps apples out? Put them in the fridge, dammit! I-" Wade's voice cracked and he was definitely crying again, "She used to say that if I wanted something-something like that shitty fruit, I'd have to do something for her, Nate. She-Nathan, she made me-" Wade had just then realized this was the first time he'd ever spoken about it in detail and something about him hurt so deep in his core. 

"Nathan, I saw her in my dream and she looked exactly the same as she did back then. She was always exactly the same and she wore this smile this-this motherly smile like what she made me do was normal and-" Wade buried himself deeper in Nathan's warmth, wobbling lips pressed against his neck. "She wasn't the only one and-and it was so long ago but it feels like it was yesterday and I can't get it out of my head sometimes." A few shuddering breaths racked out of his body and he was mostly silent again, leaving Nathan to decide what to do with all of that.

He closed his eyes, silently wishing that there was some way he could find the exact words Wade needed to be okay, but the logical part of him knew that there were none. No words that could actually fix this, fix the terrible things Wade had gone through and is going to keep going through. Instead of trying to search for those words, he simply kept his hold on Wade tight and steady while he listened to the other start to slow his breathing to a more gentle pace. 

Wade's lips formed into soft, open-mouthed kisses on his neck and shoulder, silent ways of saying that he could breathe again. It was something they shared-that ability to tell what the other was feeling without them needing to say it. Wade reverted back to that quiet sort of shakiness he had been before the dam broke loose, and nuzzled somewhat impossibly close to Nathan. 

Eventually, Wade could speak normally again and the first thing he said was, "I'm glad you can put up with my shit." 

Which did something to Nathan because for all the prior experiences of Wade always, always, always being the first to initiate contact, Nathan pulled him in for a deep kiss. Something not remotely sexual, but tender and full. Something that spoke what he wanted to say. Something that took place of the words he'd been looking for. The hand that had been on Wade's back rose to cup his cheek, and when he parted, Nathan said, "Yeah well...believe it or not, I'm not just putting up with you, Wade. And that goes for you and all the baggage you carry in that brain of yours." A near quiet moment where he kissed the corner of his mouth, pulling a soft sound out of Wade, "And for the record, you know that's not your fault. It's hers."

A small nod of affirmation made Nathan all the more sure that Wade at least understood that deep down. He could keep himself from internalizing and twisting the guilt of the trauma, something Nate had seen too much in people, in himself. 

Another inhale and Nathan guided Wade back to laying down on the bed, "Get some sleep, idiot. I'm here, you know that." He was trying his best to comfort him, the words always just out of his grasp. He knew what he wanted to say, what they probably both had wanted to say for some time, but just like all the other heavy emotions between them, it was difficult to express. 

So, rather than saying the words. The three-worded phrase declaring how he felt for Wade, he translated that feeling to a soft kiss on Wade's forehead and laid down next to him, still pressed close to his chest.


End file.
